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User blog:RRabbit42/Sunset, part 1
Sunset part 1 by Roger J. Long “You passed the stables about eight miles ago.” I nearly stumbled on the rock I was about to step over. I closed my eyes and let my head drop. “It had to be you,” I muttered. “What was that?” I turned to face her. “Diane, this is my one day a week to be alone. It’s the one thing I’ve requested privacy on, no questions asked.” “We know, Kenny. It’s just that when you come back, you’re happy, but it’s a forced happiness for our benefit, to hide the sadness that’s just behind your smile. You’re not yourself during this time.” I was stunned. If she could see this, how many others could? Was I that obvious about it? Then again, I knew that she had a strong sense of empathy. It had helped her in her training. Diane was one of the newest students in the private riding school I had started on the family farm. It had belong to us for many generations, going back to when the country was pushing towards the Pacific. Through some shrewd deals, my great-grandparents had acquired some of the neighboring farms, increasing the acreage tenfold. The flatlands were ideal for wheat and other grains. About a third of what we held were rolling hills and valleys that had no business being there. No one I talked to could explain how they formed. Wild apple, pear and other fruit trees grew on some of them. Any of the trees and anything else we tried to plant in those areas never took root, despite our best efforts. Still, it seemed a waste not to put that land to some kind of use, so I had started the school just over sixteen years ago. The uneven terrain would present challenges for the riders. We were far away from any cities and I came close to shutting down the school twice during the slack times. My belief that it could succeed dimmed at these points but never quite went out. Enrollment picked up considerably after I made the decision to add a guest house with two dozen rooms and its own kitchen, baths, dining and rec rooms. I sweated the cost, but it had been worth it. Our typical clientele was the urban professional looking to take an extended vacation and “get back to nature”. It also served as a bed and breakfast for travelers who had managed to get themselves lost and were relieved to find us so far from civilization. At first glance, Diane had fit the yuppie description to a T. She had enrolled in person, having come straight from work. The dress she wore was refined and carried a no-nonsense air about it that left no doubt she was serious about her career. Fortunately, when she returned a few weeks later, she brought more suitable clothing with her. She also bought a full riding uniform and cut her black hair to a shorter length that would make the helmet fit better. It was a good sign, showing she had done some research. However, I advised her to set the uniform aside until she had a few lessons under her belt. She started to object, then realized that in this case, I was the professional. She surprised me after breakfast on her fourth day when she asked to use our phone to call back to her office. Cell phones and internet were problematic at the farm, which appealed to many who came here. The phone was located in the kitchen in the main house. When she came back, she said, “Be careful what you wish for.” At my raised eyebrow, she added, “They’ve been pushing me to use the vacation I’ve been saving. You’d think they’d be grateful I’m only taking another three months instead of the full seven, even if I did spring it on them suddenly. We’ll see if I have a job when I get back. If not, then so be it. I don’t need that stress anyway.” The extra time allowed her to immerse herself in the riding lessons. It also gave us time to learn we had more than a few things in common. We became very close, moving beyond teacher and student. I still remember how soft her lips were on that first night. She had a natural affinity for the horses. Watching her soothe and calm some of the more high-spirited ones is what showed me how empathetic she was. I was pleased to see how rapidly she progressed. She was well on her way to becoming our finest rider. At least, she would be our finest since.… Before I..... “You’re sad again,” she said when she saw how long I had been silent. “Yes, I am.” “Does this have anything with the trophies without a name or the stall that’s always empty?” Diane asked. There was no venom in that question, but I winced. She knew where to strike. “It does,” I reluctantly admitted. When I didn’t immediately elaborate, she prompted me, pointing at what I held. “Is that why you’re carrying them?” “I use my day each week to remember a dear friend and to honor her wishes. These are part of those wishes.” I began walking again. Diane moved to my side. “Kenny, from day one, you’ve stressed that honesty is paramount. You’ve quoted Callahan’s Law more times than I can count. ‘Shared pain is lessened; shared joy, increased.’ You’re always there for us when we’re hurt, whether it’s emotionally or physically. You’re obviously in pain. Why have you never let us help you?” We walked in silence for a while. She didn’t pressure me for an answer and let me mull this over. Should I ask for help, or should I continue to bear the burden alone? I had done my best to avoid this very question. But as we climbed another hill, I realized that we had arrived. The decision had been made for me. Maybe it was time to let them help. “I lost her twelve years ago,” I began. “On this day, in fact. She needed something I couldn’t give her. Something we should have seen. Something I should have seen.” Did I see it? Did I dismiss it, convince myself I was wrong? Doubts about what I should have done were my constant companion on these days. I continued. “She left. It was on that day I realized I had failed her. We talked before she left, and I promised to take care of someone special. That’s her up ahead.” Diane crossed her arms over her heart. “Kenny, she’s beautiful!” On the crest of the next hill was a horse. When she saw us, she began trotting over, swishing her tail with excitement. She was a chestnut mare with a white forehead and similar colorations along her cannon and fetlock. The mare slowed as she approached and stopped about ten feet away from us. She appeared to be looking Diane over, evaluating her. Diane was oblivious to the scrutiny. She was starstruck. “Is she an Arabian? I’ve only seen pictures of them. Pictures don’t do the breed justice.” “No, they do not. But this one is special. One of a kind.” As if on cue, the horse got down on one knee momentarily, then stood back up. Now Diane was stunned. “Did she just bow to me?” I smiled. “She did. I’ve told her all about you. She approves.” “You’ve talked to the horse about me?” Disbelief tinged her question. “Yes, I’ve talked to her about all of you, but you’re the first to meet her. She’s my secret confidant in all things equestrian. How do you think we’ve won so many competitions?” These had been entered more for practice than anything serious, especially given how often the roster of students changed, but we did well each time. We weren’t quite ready to call ourselves a full riding academy yet. Maybe someday we’d get there. “I thought it was just the training. I mean, we’ve had some especially talented riders. And weren’t you considering me for...” Diane had always been particularly animated when she talked, using her hands to emphasize points. But this time, her hands became still just as that thought ran out. “I am. It’s official. You have her blessing. We’ll hold the ceremony next week.” “I don’t know what to say. Thank you!” She gave me an enthusiastic hug. After a moment of feeling the warmth from both how she held me and the happiness flowing from her, I separated myself. I took her lightly by the shoulders and turned her to face the Arabian. “It isn’t me you have to thank. She knows you, but you haven’t introduced yourself. Here, I find this always is well received.” I handed the carrots to her. “What’s her name?” Diane asked. I showed her the stamp on the saddle. “That’s a lovely name. Very fitting. Oh! That’s the name on the stall! Why have I never seen her in there?” “It’s always been ready for her. I’ve made sure of that. But she seems to prefer the outdoors. Fortunately, it doesn’t get very cold around here.” I chewed on my lip briefly as I thought about why she stayed away. “I think she also feels that the stables are for the other horses, not her.” “That’s a shame. She’d be welcome anytime.” She took a deep breath. “But anyway, to business. Here goes nothing.” Diane stepped forward a few feet. She bobbed in a small curtsy, then said, “Hello. I’m Diane Jacobs. I’m very pleased to meet you. Um, would you like a carrot?” She held one out, almost like a wand. The mare gently bit into the carrot, pulling it out of Diane’s hand and proceeded to eat it. When Diane offered the rest, she just as daintily retrieved them one by one. “Horses don’t normally eat like that, do they?” “No,” I confirmed. “I told you, she’s special. Impeccable manners.” The mare whickered, but I could almost hear a chuckle hidden in there. Diane stretched out a hand, then withdrew it. “Can I touch her? Her coat looks so luxurious.” “Yes, go right ahead. In fact, she needs to be brushed. You take one side and I’ll take the other. You know what to do. You’ve it done often enough.” “I never knew until now why you insisted on the extra emphasis. Don’t get me wrong, it made their coats look great. I just didn’t understand why that much was necessary.” “It’s something I added to your regimen. I thought it would be appropriate for my promise.” The mare turned her head to look at me, seemed to accept it, then faced front again. When we completed that task, I checked her hooves and verified the horseshoes were still secure. I put the blanket across her back and fitted her with the saddle. When I had made sure the bridle, bit and saddle were properly in place, I started to climb up, paused as something occurred to me, then dismounted. “Diane, would you like to ride her?” “I don’t know, Kenny. It wouldn’t feel right.” “It’s okay. She’s gentle. She won’t let you fall or get yourself into trouble.” “If you’re sure…” she said dubiously. “She’s sure. You’ll be fine. She’ll take care of you.” Diane put her left foot in the stirrup and I helped lift her right leg so it would clear the croup. She seated herself in the saddle and took the reins. I looked up at her and noticed for the first time that the shade of blue in the blouse she wore today matched her eyes. I gave her a few last pieces of advice. “Give her a light hand. She knows the area better than you. Just sit up straight and enjoy the ride. If she wants to trot or run, let her and lean forward. Watch what she does, and lift yourself out of the saddle slightly as she moves. It will be easier on the backside if you learn to rise and match her rhythm, but you already know that.” Diane nodded and gave the reins a small flick. The mare headed out at a walk. As they left, I sat down to watch. No one was better for riding than this one. Diane and the horse explored the surrounding area at an easy pace, rarely straying from my sight. If they went behind a hill, they were back in view in no more than a few minutes. Soon, the mare switched to a trot. Diane had no problem adjusting. Left to myself, the memories began flooding back. It was easy to keep them at bay when I was riding her. But here, in this place and temporarily alone, I had no such diversion. Like I had told Diane, it had happened twelve years ago.... ♦ preface ♦ part 1 ♦ part 2 ♦ part 3 ♦ part 4 ♦ part 5 ♦ epilogue ♦ ♦ [[:File:Sunset, by Roger J Long.pdf|PDF file of Sunset]] ♦ Category:Fan Fiction Category:Blog posts